Why with four pairs of shoes, can we never locate a matching left and right for my son to wear? Even when I buy two pairs of the same sneaker, only one out of four can be found. They hide under dressers, sofas, blankets or deep in the pants leg of the jeans George wore yesterday. Some hide out for weeks in the back seat of my husband’s Cruiser, while others get lost on the lawn and serve as caverns for snails and spiders to explore.

Except for the soccer cleats. Cleats don’t hide. They remain at the ready, hoping to be worn to a game. I can’t decided which I dread more, not being able to find my son’s shoes or having him wear those cleats that click, click, click on my tiled floors. And how delighted George seems to jam his feet into those narrow two-year old cleats.

“Take them off.”

“Why?”

“They’re too small. You’ll get blisters.”

“No, I won’t. I’m wearing socks.”

I look down at the thick, white tube socks strangled around his ankles. “They don’t fit you.”

“Duh. This is all I have.” Click, click, click.

“You could find your shoes if when you take them off you put them in the same place, like Mommy does.” There I go talking about myself in the third person.

Click. Click. Click.

I fantasize about being the successful shoe police. I imagine myself supervising George the minute he arrives home, leading him to his room where he slips off his shoes and places them in his closet. Sometimes, though, he takes them off in his Dad’s car. Then we walk out and get them. But the minute I turn around he’ll put them on and run outside to play. I need a locked box, screwed down to the floor and I’ll wear the key around my neck. Except he gets home before I do.

Click. Click.

I search again, everywhere… until I find a matching pair of sneakers.

After he gets on the bus I think of tossing out the cleats. But then it clicks. At least they’re dependable. I keep them -- just in case.

By Patricia Ljutic

Labels: Patricia Ljutic

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